


for just one more show

by sky_reid



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, for whatever passes as canon here, it's literally just fluff and nothing else there's not even a hint of plot, oh hey that's the perfect tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: "Okay, I admit, I'm a few years late with the setup. But hey, if I'd known you in '98, I totally would've done it then."Frank throws his head back as he laughs, hands curling into fists on Gerard's tee. "No, you wouldn't have," he says.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	for just one more show

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the photo of frank and gerard watching a smashing pumpkins concert together in 2010. you know the one. the softest three pixels you ever did see. [this one](https://killjoyhistory.tumblr.com/post/190855266170/my-chemical-romance-a-blurry-photo-of-frank-iero).

Frank's fucking around with one of Ray's pedals, trying to figure out if he likes it enough to order one for himself when Gerard's head pokes in through the open door. "Frank," he calls, "hey, Frank." He's grinning all wide and stupid and his fingers drum against the door frame like he can't quite contain all the energy inside him if he's still.

"What?" Frank asks. The fingers of his right hand stay on the frets out of habit, but he's already reaching for the strap around his neck to pull it off. He gets a distinct feeling his pre-show plans are about to change.

Sure enough, the next words to come out of Gerard's mouth are, "Come on out here." He doesn't even wait for Frank to acknowledge him, just pats the door frame twice and then disappears from view like he doesn't even have to wonder if Frank's going to follow. Frank does, of course; it's what he's spent the better part of the last decade doing.

Gerard's barely a few steps away from the door, hands in the back pockets of his jeans and bouncing a bit on his feet. The left shoulder of his jacket has slipped down a bit and Frank tugs it back up when he approaches. He leaves his hands on the lapels. "What's up?" he asks. Gerard's excitement is almost palpable and this close up, it's infectious even when it's fighting the nerves of the upcoming performance that Frank's already feeling.

Gerard shuffles closer to him, close enough to put his hands on his shoulders and press their foreheads together. "Something I wanna do," he says, whisper-quiet. His breath ghosts over Frank's lips and Frank's grip on the leather tightens enough that the zipper cuts into his palms. This close, he can smell the faint traces of Gerard's cologne, the sweat and cigarette smoke it never quite covers, something citrusy that Gerard's been drinking. Belatedly, he realizes he hasn't replied yet.

"Okay," he agrees. "What?"

Gerard runs the tip of his nose up the side of Frank's, then presses a kiss right between his eyebrows. "It's a surprise!" he says with a little giggle. "Close your eyes."

Frank pulls back to give him a suspicious look. Gerard's surprises always end one of two ways - they're either amazing or they're awful. Frank doesn't really think they have the time to deal with the fallout if it's the latter.

Gerard makes an innocent face at him that they both know is an act. He even pulls out all the stops, the tragic brows, the pouty lips, the whole nine yards. When even that doesn't work, he asks, "Don't you trust me, Frankie?"

"No," Frank replies immediately but he does close his eyes as soon as he's done rolling them. Whatever, emotional manipulation works on him. Especially when it's Gerard doing it. He feels Gerard squeeze his shoulders before carefully guiding him to turn around. Then Gerard's pressed up behind him, his hands on Frank's arms warm even through several layers of clothing, his hair tickling over the side of Frank's face.

"It's not far, just straight forward and then a few stairs up," Gerard says right in his ear. His voice sends a shiver down Frank's spine and the first step he takes is a little unsteady but Gerard stays close behind him, guiding him with steady hands. The noise around them changes as they walk, more voices joining in, people rushing past, the steadily rising screams from the crowd outside, the opening guitar riffs of a song Frank would recognize in his sleep. By the time his foot hits a raised stair in front of him, he knows they're near the stage. He can't tell if the squirmy feeling low in his stomach is nerves or excitement.

He turns his head to the side. "Gerard?" he asks.

Gerard's lips brush over his cheekbone. "Shhhh," he says. "Four steps up, then to the left." His hands run down Frank's arms until their fingers tangle together. Frank holds on tight as he heads up the stairs. He trips on the second step but catches himself before he can actually fall. Before he can ask to open his eyes, Gerard leans into him and whisper-shouts, "Don't open your eyes yet!"

"I know where we are," Frank huffs. It's a half-hearted protest at best; he can't really bring himself to be annoyed when the Pumpkins are playing right in front of his eyes.  _ Closed  _ eyes, but still - that's more than enough to send excitement coursing through his veins and chasing out all else. It's only a few steps more, half a line into the second chorus, when Gerard tugs on his hands to stop him. He steps up close until he's pressed right up against Frank's back.

"Now you can open your eyes," he whispers. Even as close as they're standing, Frank's not sure he'd hear it if he weren't already conditioned to seek out Gerard's voice in any crowd.

He opens his eyes and blinks a few times to adjust to the bright lights of the stage. He's not sure what he was expecting, but it's not this - a dark little nook of the side of the stage, right behind one of the lights, with just enough space in the scaffolding for a couple of people to sit; two large plastic cups of something fizzy and a can of beer, a pack of smokes, a lighter, a single joint rolled a bit too loosely. He laughs and shakes his head.

"What's this?" he asks, turning around to face Gerard.

Gerard's hands move to his hips. He's still smiling a little, but he's also biting his lip; he looks a little nervous. "It's a date," he says.

Frank raises an eyebrow. There's something warm and a little timid flickering under his ribs like a flame. He puts his hands on Gerard's chest where he can feel his heart beating strong and a little fast, wonders if Gerard feels the same way. They haven't done this, a date, in more than three years now. He wants to know what's changed, if this means something more than seeing a Smashing Pumpkins concert together, if there's a goodnight kiss waiting for him on the other side. But talking about it is another thing they don't really do anymore so instead he asks, "Yeah? In what, 1998?"

Gerard rolls his eyes. "Okay, I admit, I'm a few years late with the setup. But hey, if I'd known you in '98, I totally would've done it then."

Frank throws his head back as he laughs, hands curling into fists on Gerard's tee. "No, you wouldn't have," he says, pulling Gerard a little closer. Gerard's arms slide around his waist.

"No, I wouldn't have," he admits. He ducks his head, smiling a little bashfully. In the high contrast lighting of the side stage, his eyelashes actually cast shadows over the blush rising on his cheekbones. Frank runs his thumb over it as if to brush it off. "Are you saying no?" Gerard asks. He looks like he's seriously considering it, like he's actually expecting Frank to say no, like three years is all it would take for Frank to get over him. Frank doesn't think he's ever going to be able to say no to this.

"When have you ever known me to say no to you?" he asks instead. He nods his head to the side where he can just about see the Pumpkins starting up Drown. "Come on," he says, "we're missing the concert."

Gerard looks over as well and nods. "Yeah, alright," he agrees. He glances at the crowd on their other side from which they are only partially hidden by the black screen. Frank realizes what he's doing a split second before it happens.

Time seems to slow down to a crawl as Gerard's eyes flicker from the screaming fans to the stage back to Frank's face. He leans in, then pauses just a mere breath away from Frank's mouth. Frank doesn't realize he's stopped breathing in anticipation until his lungs start to burn. He closes his eyes and pulls Gerard in that one last bit until their lips press together, closed and dry and chaste and quick and somehow still enough to send Frank's toes curling. It's risky and stupid but frank wouldn't have been able to stop himself if he'd tried and he didn't really try. Still, when he pulls back, he only has a moment to look at Gerard before they're both blushing and turning away.

Gerard pulls back, puts his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. "Right," he says. "Well."

"Well," Frank echoes dumbly. He's probably imagining it, but his lips still feel like they're tingling. It'd be a bit too much to touch them just to check if they feel different so he doesn't. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans as well.

Gerard finally looks back at him. He licks his lips like he's also looking for traces of their kiss on them, then grins. "So," he says, "wanna watch the Pumpkins with me?"

Frank grins back. "Hell yeah, I do."

"It's a date, then," Gerard says as he waves a hand at the cleared off section of the floor in front of them like he's pulling a chair out at a fancy restaurant or something. Frank slaps his hand away even as he laughs.

They settle in close together. Gerard crosses his legs in front of him; if Frank did the same, their knees would press together. He pulls his knees up to his chest instead, wraps his arms around them. Gerard pushes the beer towards him and grabs one of the other cups for himself. Up close, it looks like sprite or something equally sugary. Frank wonders if he'll get to taste it on Gerard's tongue later. He reaches for the beer but changes his mind at the last second; he lights a cigarette instead. Three drags later, Gerard plucks it out of his hand and doesn't return it.

The first words of Bullet with Butterfly Wings have them turning to each other, grinning and singing along at the top of their lungs, laughing when they go off-key at the same time. Frank wonders briefly if he maybe lit the joint instead of a cigarette by accident because he feels light, relaxed, young like he hasn't in a while. Like it's 1998 again and he's on a date with a boy he likes. Except it's better than that: it's 2010 and he's watching one of his favorite bands side-stage with one of his favorite people in the whole world and in a few hours he'll be playing that same stage with another one of his favorite bands. And maybe, just maybe, that night he won't go to sleep alone. Or maybe he will. But right now, he can lean in, press a kiss to the corner of Gerard's lips, rest his chin on Gerard's shoulder. He says, "Gerard. Hey, Gerard."

Gerard turns to him so their noses press together. "What?" he asks.

Frank smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> cheers to the polycule homestead for giving me a sweet potato on this one
> 
> find me [on tumblr](https://captivekinqs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
